He’d told the older black man, Villars, that they should pack their necessary things and go to Vicksburg. He’d said they would consider it. Thirty minutes later, the house was rife with people carrying who-knew-what here and there.
One thing he’d learned in his travels as a soldier – there was no accounting for what people deemed necessary items.
Chapter 3
“The Yankees are coming!”
Arabella stirred on the couch in the parlor. She was dreaming a most peculiar dream.
“Mistress, get up, the Yankees are coming.”
Arabella opened her eyes and stared into the deep brown eyes of a dark skinned young woman wearing a long dress and scarf wrapped around her head.
With a quick glance around the room, she realized she was in the parlor of the house bequeathed to her by her great-grandparents.
Her host, Jerry, hadn’t said he was having visitors, but then Arabella hadn’t asked.
The look in the woman’s wide eyes, though, was nearly hysterical.
“What Yankees?” Arabella sat up, pulling the blanket securely around her shoulders.
“Mistress, I ain’t knowing who you are, but it don’t make no never mind. We’s packing up now and we be leaving at first light.”
Perhaps the woman had some type of psychosis. Arabella saw this kind of thing from time to time in her work at the hospital. Unfortunately, Arabella didn’t have any Haldol with her.
Someone scurried past, behind them. It was then that Arabella noticed that the woman standing over her wasn’t the only person showing signs of hysteria. Men, women, and children, black and white, were rushing to and fro carrying items of dubious content around the house.
“It looks disorganized.” She muttered to herself.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” The woman turned and hurried off toward the foyer.
Arabella sat in awe as she watched the people rushing about. All she could think was that they were in serious need of triage training. She wondered if anyone knew what anyone else was doing.
She needed to find Jerry to see what was going on. Perhaps this was part of the renovation process. If so, it certainly explained why it was taking so long. Longer than expected, he’d said.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She’d forgotten to call Matthew, her fiancé, last night to let him know that she’d arrived safely.
It was just as well. Her phone was barely charged and the words No Service made it clear that she wouldn’t be calling anyone.
Chapter 4
Augustus needed sleep. He had no one to blame but himself for his lack thereof. After all, he’d been the one to encourage the people to pack up and go with them. Between the people running up and down the hallway, chattering about this and that, and moving of trunks, it was as loud outside his bedroom as it was in a tent with his men preparing for battle.
Besides, a commanding officer would never sleep while his men readied for battle.
Augustus groaned and climbed out of the most comfortable bed he’d lain in since he’d left home two years ago to fight in this war.
He pulled on his trousers and a white shirt. After tucking in his shirt, he pulled on his boots and tightened the laces. One of the frayed pieces snapped. Without a hitch, he tied the two ends together, adding another knot to his laces. He’d given his army-issued extra pair of laces to one of his men weeks ago.
By the time he was dressed, much of the hubbub in the hallway had subsided. He’d hardly reached the top of the stairs, when the elderly man, Villars, that he’d spoken to earlier, seemed to step from the shadows.
“Can I get something for you, Sir?” Villars leaned on his cane.
“No. No. I heard the commotion and thought I could be of assistance.”
“Oh yes sir. The people are a mite anxious to be ready to go with you all first thing in the morning.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Augustus took a step.
“I should be down there myself, but my old knees don’t hold up on these stairs no more. Once I get up here for bed, I try not go back down ‘til morning.”
“Can I help you down?”
“Oh no, Sir. I couldn’t impose.” Villars shook his head.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Augustus held out his arm. “Come on.”
“If you insist, though it’s not fitting.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Villars laid his hand on Augustus’ arm and with Augustus taking most of his weight, they made it down to the landing, Villars rested a couple of minutes, then they started down the second part of the stairway.
“I need to rest another minute.” Villars sat down five steps from the bottom. “These old knees ain’t worth a darn anymore.”
After helping the older man sit, Augustus leaned back against the railing and noticed that he had a good view into the parlor.
He saw a young lady standing in front of the fireplace. He’d been told the mistress of the house was in New Orleans. He hadn’t been informed of any other ladies in the house. Just from her silhouette, he could see that she was a well-bred lady. But she wore what looked like denim trousers and a man’s blue undershirt.
The war created some strange things. But Augustus certainly wasn’t complaining. The clothing outlined her lithe body quite nicely. As she turned and leaned over to pick up the fireplace poker and stirred up the flames, Augustus gasped. The lady was not only well-bred, she was beautiful.
He hadn’t noticed that Villars was standing up again and had taken his arm. The elderly man turned and followed his gaze.
“Ready?” Augustus asked absently, keeping his eyes on the girl.
When the man didn’t respond, Augustus looked over at him. Villars was still as a statue as he stared at the lady in the parlor.
Except for the man’s fingers digging into his arm, Augustus would have thought Villars had turned to stone.
“Are you alright?”
The man’s eyes bulged. Augustus shook him gently. “Villars? Are you well?”
“No sir,” Villars said in a whisper.
The girl must have heard them. The poker still her hand, she turned and looked at them. They must have looked quite a sight – the tall sturdy soldier and the frail black man clutching his arm, both staring wide-eyed at her.
Her eyes focused on Augustus.
“I apologize, ma’am.” Augustus forced his eyes away from her briefly, then back. It was impolite to stare, but looking at her was like looking at a beautiful painting. “I didn’t know there was a lady here.”
She didn’t answer, but instead placed her free hand on the mantle.
Villars drew in a sharp intake of breath and straightened to his full height. “Miss Arabella.”
Chapter 5
Arabella tore her gaze from the handsome man standing on the stairs to the frail black man leaning against him.
Her name whispered by him floated across the room.
She frowned. The man looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
Her eyes snapped back to the younger man. He was about her age, maybe just over thirty. Short dark hair. Clean shaven. A white shirt loose at the collar.
His gaze was pinned to hers. The black man slid down and sat on the stairs, putting his hands over his face.
Someone knocked on the front door. When Arabella didn’t move to answer it, the man glanced around, then went to answer it himself.
Arabella couldn’t see into the foyer, but their voices carried.
“Colonel Townsend?”
“Yes?”
“Sir I have news. May we speak privately?”
The front door closed and she could hear their muffled voices coming from the front veranda. Colonel? The man must be in the military then. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but of course he wouldn’t be in uniform in the middle of the night.
Arabella had never had any interest in politics. She didn’t have a TV, didn’t read a newspaper, and rarely listened
to the radio. The only news she got was through an app on her phone. Was there a war going on that she didn’t know about? An invasion of some kind?
Her great-grandmother Vaughn’s influence often sent her down a fanciful line of thinking, but she batted the irrational thoughts off like flies.
Arabella Becquerel’s life was grounded in scientific logic.
Until three weeks ago, she had done little other than eat, sleep, and breath psychology. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever having had a conversation with her fiancé that didn’t involve something related to psychology. She’d try in vain to listen when he talked about law, but she was pretty sure her eyes glazed over with disinterest at least half the time.
Arabella turned and put the poker back in its stand. In the hour or so since she’d woken to chaos, things had quietened somewhat.
With the exception of the black man sitting on the stairs, staring at her again, everyone had disappeared, perhaps to sleep after their miserable attempt to triage whatever travel they were preparing for.
She’d heard the word Yankees more than once, but decided it was either some role play thing at best or a Folie a deux at worst. Whatever it was, she chose to stay uninvolved. She was only here to become acquainted with and begin making decisions about the property secretly owned by the grandparents who raised her.
The frail older man stood up and, using his cane, made his way toward her. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her. Arabella looked into his eyes, wise with age.
“Arabella. You’ve come back to us.”
Chapter 6
Augustus stood in front of his second in command. “We have to stay here.”
“What? We can’t.” The soldier straightened and cleared his throat. “I apologize. I mean, Sir. What about Vicksburg?”
“No need to apologize, Beau. It’s out of my hands. Vicksburg will have to wait. Unfortunately, we need to batten down here. It seems the Federals have stopped at the port and dumped a regime of soldiers off to hit Vicksburg from the east. We’re sitting right in their path.”
Beau’s adam apple bobbed. “Yes sir.”
“At ease, Beau. I’m gonna need you with me on this. Since I’m the only doctor here, I may be otherwise occupied if there are wounded.”
Before he caught himself, Beau’s lips twitched up at the prospect of assuming command of their soldiers. Augustus sighed. Did the young never tire of pursuing the thrill of glory? “Go on,” He said, his voice weary. “Get the men up so we can give them the news.”
Beau turned and started around toward the back of the house where the soldiers had pitched their tents. The young soldier had a lightness in his step that Augustus hadn’t seen in months.
Augustus just wanted to go home. To have this war over and return to his family in Jefferson county. He was so close now. Even though he was next to the wide Mississippi River, the air smelled more like home than any he’d breathed in months. There was still a chance he could take a few days to slip home to see his folks. Augustus was having trouble remembering a world where there was no war. The country would be permanently scared now. He only hoped that in two hundred years, this folly would still be remembered. Otherwise, so many lives would have been lost in vain.
His brother was somewhere – Gettysburg fighting his own battle for the south. His father had died before this war even started. Augustus could only pray that the women-folk were getting along without them.
Augustus ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the house. So many lives upended from this damnable war. Take this family, for instance. The husband was off fighting and the wife was displaced.
All Augustus wanted to do was to get home, find a wife and have some children. Practice medicine. And live a normal life.
His attention was drawn to a window of the house. Someone was staring out into the darkness. It was the young lady he’d seen standing near the fireplace. She was silhouetted by the lantern in the background. His heart did a little stutter. She was beautiful. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It had been years – since the war started - since he’d been interested in talking with a female. But this woman…
He wanted to talk to her. To find out if she was as beautiful up close as she was from a distance. To find out if she could hold an engaging conversation.
Even before the war, he had given up on finding someone who was both interesting to talk to and delightful to look at. So much so that he’d thrown himself into his studies and given up pursuit of a wife - to the chagrin of his mother.
He pulled his gaze away from her and walked around to the back of the house to inform his men of the change in plans.
The war was making him addled.
Now was not the time to be thinking of finding a wife.
Chapter 7
Arabella’s training was automatic. “Please. Let me help you sit.” When he didn’t protest, she led the frail man to the nearest sofa and helped him sit. “Do we know each other?”
The man blinked, looked into her eyes, and seemed to regain some of his senses. “Of course not. My name is Villars.”
Arabella held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Villars.”
He looked at her hand, then back to her face, his eyes wide.
She smiled encouragingly, trying to put him at ease. He put his fingers lightly against hers, and bent his head over the back of her hand, then released her hand.
“Welcome home,” he said.
“Thank you.” Arabella wasn’t sure how to take this man. Perhaps he was merely from an older generation with outdated customs, but somehow he seemed to know about her. Perhaps Jerry had told him. “Do you know where Jerry is?”
“Jerry?” The word sounded strange on his lips. His gaze met hers again with an intensity that reminded Arabella of a fortune teller Vaughn had taken her to one time in New Orleans. The memory still sent shivers down her spine.
Time is an illusion. The fortune teller had looked up from her crystal ball to peer into Arabella’s eyes. For you more so than others.
Arabella, thirteen years old at the time, had giggled until she saw her great-grandmother’s stricken expression.
The fortune teller gazed into the ball again. I see… destruction… I see… The fortune teller frowned. Your father’s life… is in peril.
Arabella had scoffed. Her parents had died shortly after her birth.
The fortune teller had closed her eyes. Swayed. Then opened her eyes and stared at Arabella as though she’d seen a ghost. Leave me. I never want to see you again.
Her great-grandmother had taken Arabella by the hand and dragged her from the fortune teller’s tent. They had never talked about it again.
Arabella shook off the memory. It had been so long ago. Yet, she had never shaken the feeling of foreboding she’d felt leaving that tent.
“How do you know me?” She whispered, her voice catching.
The black man straightened his shoulders. “Your mother, Mistress Ericka, lives here.”
Chapter 8
Augustus trudged back to the house. His men were disappointed and rightly so. After weeks of futility, they’d been looking forward to having a purpose. Protecting Vicksburg had given them something worthwhile to look forward to.
Instead, they were forced to batten down here and focus on protecting themselves from attack.
Such was the way of war.
In the meantime, Augustus found himself distracted by the beautiful young lady in the parlor. Villars had had a strange reaction to her. Almost like he recognized her, but it had been more like he’d seen a ghost. He called her Arabella. Was she a ghost then? Someone he’d known who had passed away and now reappeared?
Augustus shivered. He shook his head. It was more likely that he hadn’t seen her in quite some time.
Besides, Villars was quite old and had trouble getting around. Perhaps his memory had lapsed.
Augustus went up the back stairs, shook the dirt off his boots, and went inside the back
door. It was dark inside the house now and he made his way toward the stairway guided by moonlight and the muted glow from the fireplace.
When he reached the stairway, he stopped and looked to the left into the parlor. The pull was too strong for him to resist. He sat on the bottom step, untied his boots and slipped them off. Wearing only his socks, holes and all, he quietly padded over to the sofa to see if the girl was there.
His breath came in sharply when he saw her. She was asleep on the sofa, tucked beneath a blanket. He stepped closer and bent over to better see her. She looked real enough. Her slow steady breath belied any possibility that she was a ghost.
He didn’t know how it was even possible, but she was more beautiful up close than from a distance. Her dark hair splayed across the pillow and his fingers itched to sweep aside a strand that lay across her cheek. Her full red lips were slightly parted in sleep and her dark lashes lay against flawless porcelain skin.
Augustus had never experienced love at first sight and typically scoffed at the whole idea, but he couldn’t ignore the unfamiliar twist in his gut or the dryness in his mouth. He wanted to touch her so badly it was painful.
The beauty of southern women was known around the world as unsurpassed, and Augustus had met his share of beauties. But this one overshadowed them all.
She stirred and he jerked back. It would be difficult to explain standing over her. In fact, she would probably never speak to him due to his forward and ungentlemanly behavior.
Leaving her, he went back to the stairway and made his way up to his room.
Now that the house was quiet, perhaps he could get some sleep. Tomorrow he and his men would be up at first light to begin preparing the house to be a fortress. Especially now that he had Arabella to protect, he would do whatever it took to make sure they were safe from the Yankees.
Once in a Blue Moon Page 2